


Sins of the father - ADAPTATION-

by Writersofthegalaxy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom Harry, Dom Harry Styles/Sub Louis Tomlinson, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Louis, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, fem Louis, kinda underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:54:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writersofthegalaxy/pseuds/Writersofthegalaxy
Summary: Louis Tomlinson has always felt badly about the fact that his father duped and then fired his former protégée, Harry Edward Styles. Worse yet, he knows that Harry has always believed him to be a part of the conspiracy to get rid of him.When Harry comes to power during a hostile takeover of Tomlinson Chemicals, Louis realizes Harry will want revenge against his family so he prepares himself to be ousted from the company. But much to his surprise, Harry doesn't oust him. Instead, he wants his vendetta against the Tomlinson settled in an entirely different fashion, in a way Louis never could have imagined in his wildest, most wicked dream...************************This is an adaptation, all credits to the rightfull owner :Jaid Black
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 23
Kudos: 297





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an adaptation of Jaid Black's novel: Sins of the father.
> 
> If you want to know more about her work go to:
> 
> https://www.jaidblack.com/
> 
> thank you
> 
> ***This is not beta read***

“Excu-use me?” Louis Tomlinson stuttered out. His blue eyes widened as he regarded the man sitting across from him at the expensive mahogany oak desk. He couldn’t have heard him correctly. There was no way in the hell that—

“You heard me,” he murmured. His intense emerald gaze bore into his, his expression brooding. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Louis stared at him open mouthed, too stunned to speak. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe that this man, Harry Edward Styles, alpha, was suggesting—no demanding—the things that he was asking of him. Under any other circumstances he would have said yes. Under these circumstances his pride would only allow him to say…

“No.” He shook him head, swallowing roughly as he regarded him. “I won’t be used like that, Harry. I can’t believe you’d suggest such a thing,” he whispered.

His eyebrows rose, but otherwise he remained calmly stoic. His arrogant gaze wandered up and down the length of his body, all but disrobing him. So much for the casual lunch they were supposed to be having, he thought. There was nothing casual about the way he was attempting to dominate the situation.

His teeth gritted when he considered just how much the bastard was probably enjoying his discomfort. But then, could he blame him? If the circumstances were reversed, he thought, he didn’t know how he’d be treating him.

Harry Styles, he sighed. The alpha who had been the focal point of more adolescent wet dreams than he could count had finally noticed him as a man. At the age of twenty-five, he had waited a long, long time for this moment to be realized. But now that it was here, he morosely considered, he had to turn him down. The irony was not lost on him.

At thirty-five, he was still as handsome, if not more handsome, than he’d been the first time Louis had laid eyes on him when he’d been but thirteen. He had fallen instantly in love with the then twenty-three-year-old, but even so he’d been socially adept enough to realize that it was and would always be a one-sided attraction.

Alphas who looked like Harry Styles didn’t settle for omegas who looked like Louis Tomlinson. Not even when that omega was the son of the wealthiest man in England.

Louis supposed he’d aged well enough. He had an exotic, pretty face with blue eyes that were turned up a bit at the corners, full lips and a cheerful smile. But he’d never been skinny, not even at his best, and he’d certainly never been tall.

If there was one thing Louis had learned growing up amongst la crème de la crème of society, it was that handsome, powerful alphas wanted gorgeous, tall, beanpole, trophy wives. They wanted the omegas who ate salads and drank mineral water and called it a meal—not omegas who ate steaks and baked potatoes (loaded with butter and sour cream, of course), drank sugared sodas, and enjoyed it all without a qualm. They wanted the omegas with limbs long enough to wrap around a tree trunk—not a omega whose legs were shorter than felled stumps.

He sighed. Delicately feminine he’d never be.

“You do what you need to do,” Louis said quietly as he rose from the chair. He nervously ran his sweaty palms down the front of his designer denim jeans, his gaze skittishly avoiding his. He would not be a whore for any man—not even for the only man he’d ever really wanted. “And I’ll do what I need to do,” he said with more staunch than he felt. “I believe I should leave now.”

Louis walked towards the office door, then stopped mid-stride. He turned his head, gazing at him from over his shoulder. “Regardless to what you decide to do,” he said softly, “I am and have always been against what my father did to you.” His stark eyes seemed to widen a bit, but he couldn’t be sure. “And I’m not just saying that.”

Indeed, he had been Harry’s most vocal champion. When his father had turned against his young protégé, dropping him like soiled goods to earn a quick buck, he had been mortified. It had taken years before he was able to forgive him and continue on as a father and son should. Even then, it had been a few more years before the strain between them had eased.

“Goodbye, Harry,” he whispered, striding towards the door. He sighed, wishing things had never come to this, wishing too that he could have lived out his fantasies of being in his bed without doing it by serving as the familial sacrifice. But in Harry Styles’s eyes, he knew, one of the Tomlinsons had to pay for the father’s sins. And since the father was dead and he now owned Tomlinson Chemicals outright, there was only one man who could pay for them.

He made it to the heavy double doors of the posh office and was preparing to open them when a rough palm slapped against the wood beam above his head and didn’t budge. He gulped nervously, able to feel the heat radiating off of the six-foot one-inch body that was pressed against his from behind. He was aroused, he could tell. Whether by him as a man or by the power he held over him—or both—he couldn’t say.

“Think about what you’re doing, Lou,” he murmured. “Your mother and sisters are relying on you to make the best decision for everyone involved.”

He was torn between arousal and anger. Arousal because it was the first time, he’d ever heard him use the more familiar “Lou” as opposed to “Louis” when speaking to him. Anger because he had just presumed that his mother and sisters were as greedy as his father had been. Anger won out.

“My mother,” he ground out, “would never condone allowing myself to be used like a

common whore.” His nostrils flared. “And neither would my sisters for that matter.”

“I see,” Harry growled from next to his ear. He could feel those intense, intelligent eyes of his boring into his skull. Analyzing. Assessing. Calculating. That’s what he did best. That’s why, unlike the hundreds of others former employees him father had screwed over, Harry Edward Styles had managed to fight his way to the top and now held the upper hand over him today.

“But what do _you_ think is best, my dear Louis?” His free hand came to rest on his shoulder, rubbing it, caressing it. “What executive decision do you think is best for _you_ to make today? Your family can lose so much. Or,” he finished, “I can let bygones be bygones and your family, corrupt though it might be, will be permitted to carry on as they always have.”

Louis’s body stilled. “You want me to be your whore,” he said quietly. “Regardless to what you might think of my family, I was raised better than that.”

“You were daddy’s little boy,” he murmured against his ear. He pressed closer, his thick erection poking against his back. “I have no doubt that Mark raised you to be everything he was not.”

Which made Harry’s revenge against the Tomlinson family all the sweeter to him, he thought glumly. He was sweet and innocent in his eyes—a true gentleman of elite breeding. And a true sacrificial lamb in every sense of the word.

His spine stiffened. Suddenly it all made sense. Suddenly he understood why it was that this man who had everything, this man who could possess any woman of his choosing, wanted him to play mistress to him…

Because he was nothing like him. And because he was hoping that Mark Tomlinson, his betrayer, would know from the grave that Harry Styles had managed to turn his beloved Louis into the same person Mark had been while alive—a proverbial whore who would do anything for a dollar.

“What do you want me to do?” he ground out. “Have sex with you? How many times? When would it end?” He spun around on his heel, his eyes blazing into his. At over six feet, he stood almost a full foot taller than his own five-two so he had to push him back a bit before he could meet his gaze, but he was too angry to be intimidated by that fact. “How much of you would I be forced to stomach?” he spat out.

Harry smiled, an arrogant gesture designed to further infuriate him. It worked.

“Well?” he shrieked. “Get on with your demands! I can’t put my family out on the street when I have the power to stop it and you damn well know it. So tell me what the hell it is you want from me,” he seethed, “and be done with it.”

He chuckled, his intense green eyes roaming over every square inch of his body. His dangerous gaze stopped at his nipples, memorizing the outline of them. “I want more than sex from you, Louis,” he said softly. Too softly. “I want everything.”

He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “What exactly does that mean?” he said a bit weakly. His chest heaved from beneath his gaze. “I’m not in the mood to solve riddles.”

His dark eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of the expensive Italian suit he wore and regarded him face intently. “Everything,” he murmured, “means just that.” His jaw clenched. “Sex isn’t good enough, my dear. Not good enough by a long shot.”

He blushed, feeling like a fool that he’d thought for even a moment that Harry Styles wanted him in his bed. What a ridiculous notion, he conceded. He bit his lip. He could have any woman he wanted. He hardly needed to get his rocks off with ordinary him.

“Oh don’t think you’re off the hook,” he growled, misinterpreting the look he’d given him as relief. “I’ll be fucking you whenever and however I want. But sex is only a small part of the overall penance, darling.”

He hesitated, worry engulfing him features once again. “What precisely do you mean?” he muttered. “You’ve lost me.”

“I’m going to own you,” he said simply, coming straight to the point. His blue eyes drilled into his, his expression once again brooding. “Marry you, mate you, breed you, have total control over your body—”

His blue eyes widened. That was the last thing he had been expecting to hear. _Mate_ _him?_ He didn’t need to mate him to take over Tomlinson Chemicals. At this juncture, all it would take was one word to the bank and board of directors and it was all his.

“—and Mark will know from the grave that not only have I succeeded in infiltrating his precious company, but I have also succeeded in infiltrating his goddamn bloodline.”

Louis stared at him blankly, too stunned to react. Harry’s grand plan went beyond anything he could have ever fathomed. It went beyond it, circumnavigated it, and then crash-landed into the realm of surreality. “Are you insane?” he whispered. “You can’t possibly want to mate me. Why would you sentence us both to a lifetime of—”

“Question and answer period are over,” he arrogantly announced. One dark eyebrow shot up. “You have two choices, my dear. Come under my ownership and I allow your family to live in peace. Or reject the chance I am offering you to save their livelihoods and lose everything in the process. The choice is yours.” His gaze flicked down to his body, then back up to his face. “Make it and make it quickly.”

He blinked, barely able to form a coherent thought let alone make a life-altering decision. “Why do you call it ownership?” he said weakly. “Mating isn’t exactly ownership—”

“Mine will be.”

_Mine._ Not _ours_. The possessive word hadn’t been lost on him.

Harry’s calculating eyes flicked down once more, grazing over his body, drinking in his jeans-clad ass. “You will fuck me as often as I want and however I want it. You will cater to my every whim and fulfill my every perverted fantasy.” His body responded to his words, becoming aroused against his volition. “You will bear as many of my children as I say. You will behave as I say. You will never touch nor look at another alpha or beta in a sexual way…” His gaze shot up to penetrate his. “I will own you,” he murmured. “Completely.”

He swallowed roughly, him eyes wide.

“Give me your decision, Mr. Tomlinson.” His jaw was firm, his eyes harsh. “The clock, and my patience, is ticking.”


	2. Chapter 2

Louis hesitantly accepted Harry’s hand, his mouth dry as cotton when he laced his larger fingers through his and guided him towards his private, corporate airplane. He hadn’t been expecting that they’d have a real honeymoon—not by a long shot. So he’d been surprised, and more than a little worried, when his mate of an hour had informed him that they were heading for his private tropical island off the coast of Costa Rica and that they would remain there for two months.

The thought was arousing. The thought was distressing. There would be no one around to hear him screams if he meant to do him any harm.

Logically speaking, he didn’t seem the type who got off on inflicting pain on others, but then again, who was he to say? He barely knew him. Besides, he thought morosely, he was aware of the fact that he believed him to have been in cahoots with his father. He doubted that his softly whispered words to the contrary in his office, words that had come five years too late, had made much of a difference.

He sighed, wondering again what he meant to do with him.

And, damn it anyway, there was no way to fight him. He had actually made him compliance toward him a legal part of their marriage. He had been forced to sign an affidavit, swearing by penalty of his family being expelled from their familial estate, that he would obey him without question in all things. Legally, he recalled through gritted teeth, he wasn’t even allowed to raise him voice to him without him family being punished.

Him nostrils flared. He had a feeling his family would be tossed into the streets outside of a week. Contrary to Harry’s beliefs, he had never been the sweet, biddable type. Sweet, biddable men couldn’t effectively run billion dollar companies. And he _had_ effectively run it before the takeover.

Problem being his father had made a lot of foolish business decisions before his death that had depleted a great deal of capital.

Then again, his husband probably knew that. He silently wondered if that was part of the lure of mating him—getting a chance to forcibly bring a strong, independent man to heel after slowly bleeding him cash assets dry so he could no longer fight him.

Thirty minutes later, the plane had taken off, the cocktails had been served, and Louis sat in his seat across from his new husband sipping on a margarita. He stared out of the window, absently watching the clouds pass by, too nervous to make eye contact with the man who for all intent and purposes held all power over him.

“I can see how stiff your nipples are from under your shirt” Harry murmured, he watched as he nervously cleared him throat and glanced away. “Are you cold, aroused, or both?”

Aroused, he thought, squirming a bit in him seat. “Cold,” he whispered.

Louis closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself. Perverse or not, stupid or not, his body had always innately responded to the dark, forbidding man sitting across from him. It was as if his body had been created by the gods for the sole purpose of pleasuring Harry Edward Styles. No other man had gotten him wet from mere words and simple glances. No other man but Harry.

He hated to admit it, but he looked more dangerously handsome than ever today. Still wearing the same Italian black suit he’d married him in, his dark brown hair was as attractively disheveled as the tie that he’d loosened and which now laid slung around his neck. His athletic musculature was evident even with clothing covering his body. His eyes were deep green and intense, the laugh lines at the corners in stark contrast to the brooding expression on his face.

“Then I’ll have to change that,” he said softly, setting down his brandy. “I want my omega aroused for me and my cock at all times.”

Louis blew out a breath, arousal overwhelming him. This was just too much. It didn’t matter to his libido that all Harry wanted from him was revenge. This was still the same man he’d secretly yearned for the better part of his life.

He was already turned on, he conceded. If he touched him he would probably explode on contact. He took another deep breath, not wanting to embarrass himself by succumbing so soon. This man that he had yearned for so many years was also, after all, the same man who had taken him life as he knew it away from him. He’d have to keep remembering that fact.

“Take off your clothes.”

His eyes widened. His head shot up to meet his gaze. “Wh-What?” he breathed out. His heartbeat felt as though it might thump out of his chest. He was wasting no time in upping the ante.

HARRY’s intense blue eyes grew impossibly more so. “Take off your clothes,” he repeated. “B-But the crew—”

“Your clothes,” he said softly, his look reminding him of their legal marriage agreement. “Take

them off.”

Louis blew out a breath. He had never permitted a man to see what he looked like naked in the full light of day. Contemplating doing so was the most frightening thing he could imagine. And yet, perversely, it was also the most arousing.

He really wished his libido would get with the program. Harry wanted revenge—not him.

“I’m waiting,” he murmured. “I want to see those stiff nipples of yours with no clothing on to

impede my view.”

He quickly chugged down the margarita, then set the glass down. He hesitated for a moment, but inevitably, he stood up and prepared to undress himself. It wasn’t as if he had much choice in the matter, Louis reminded himself. He would have to comply for as long as he could, or at least until he figured a way out of this mess. If such a way even existed.

“Would you turn around?” he asked quietly, him head bowed in embarrassment. “Please?”

“No.” HARRY picked up his brandy and settled comfortably into his seat. Louis glanced up, surprised by the obvious arousal in his voice. He glanced down again, immediately noting the prominent bulge in his trousers. “I want to look at my omega, not at the back of the goddamn plane,” he said thickly.

He bit his lip. Memories of his father telling him that he needed to lose weight, that he was too fat and unappealing, flooded him memories. _Go_ _to the gym and workout_ , Mark had repeatedly told him. _You’ll_ _never snag a husband and a mate looking like that_.

“I’m not much to look at,” he whispered. “Please…I’m not trying to go back on our deal, but I—”

“I think you have everything to look at,” he interrupted, surprising him. “Now show it to me. I want to see the nipples I now own…and the hole that belongs to only me.”

He took a calming breath, his words more arousing than the hands of ten men intimately massaging him all at once. He didn’t want to be attracted to him, given the circumstances of their marriage / mating, but there it was. It was hard not to be attracted to a handsome man who was, whether he realized it or not, making him feel beautiful.

Louis nodded, then slowly began peeling off his clothing. He carefully avoided making eye contact, but he could feel his intense gaze devouring his nipples when he first removed his white silk shirt and then his lacy bra.

His hands seized his small breasts, one of the characteristics of being an omega, the thumbs massaging his distended nipples. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick. “Your nipples are large and long. Perfect for sucking on.”

He squeezed his thighs together and blew out a breath. His mouth was so close to his nipples he could feel his breath warming them. “Th-Thank you.”

His tongue lashed out, surprising him, making him gasp. He took turns with both breasts, slowly licking around the circumference of each nipple, then suctioning the tip into his mouth.

He sighed, his legs beginning to feel like overcooked spaghetti noodles. He curled his tongue around his left nipple and drew it in to the heat of his mouth. He moaned softly when his lips latched onto it, his hands instinctively threading through his dark hair as he began to suckle it.

Harry spent the next ten minutes showering his breasts with attention. He sucked on one nipple for a couple of minutes, then switched to the other one and did the same. He repeated the process over and over again, not stopping until he was breathless and clinging to him.

His dark head came up from him chest, his eyelids heavy. “Now the rest,” he possessively murmured. “Show me the exquisite hole I now own.”

His breathing labored, his nipples achingly swollen, Louis complied. He stepped back a bit as his hands shakily reached behind him for the zipper to his white, thigh-high skirt. He glanced down at his tiny breasts as he unzipped himself, noting how ruby-red and distended his nipples were. He could still see the faint outline of teeth marks, a sight that made him wetter still.

“Now remove your panties,” Harry said hoarsely as his skirt fell to the ground and pooled around his feet. “I want you wearing nothing but those high heels.”

The white silk panties came off next, quickly joining the garments already laying on the ground. He heard HARRY suck in his breath and wasn’t sure what to make of the sound. He bit into his lower lip, once again feeling ashamed and unsure of his body. Was he aroused or disgusted? He couldn’t tell. He shouldn’t care.

“You shaved” he said thickly. “Have you always shaved it bald?” He nodded, still too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

“Why?” he murmured. “Do you like how sensitive it is when you masturbate yourself?”

His face grew hot, giving him his answer. He looked away.

“Show me,” he said, his voice arrogant and possessive. “Sit down, spread your legs, and show me how you like to touch yourself.”

“Harry—”

“Show me,” he cut him off, interrupting him protest. “Your cunt belongs to me now, Louis. From here on out, you use it to pleasure your husband, not just yourself.”

He blew out a breath. The man had a way with words. Louis knew this was destined to be the shortest masturbation session of his life for he was already this close to coming. “Okay,” he whispered.

Sitting down in his seat across from him, Louis splayed his legs wide, bringing them down to rest on the arms of the seat. He could feel his intense eyes staring boldly at him exposed hole, his gaze practically branding it.

“Touch yourself,” he said thickly. He unzipped his trousers and released his erection from its previous confinement. It was long and thick, a vein running prominently down the middle from the root to the head. “Play with your little hole for me.”

His fingers slid down and found his hole. He bit his lip as he watched him stare at him through hooded eyes. He closed his eyes and began to manipulate his fingers inside his hole, rubbing it in a circular fashion as his breathing grew more and more labored.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he said in low tones. “Keep stroking your cunt for me. From now on you always have to ask my permission before you touch yourself. Do you understand me, Louis?”

From somewhere in the back of him fevered mind he found the wherewithal to answer yes. “It’s my cunt now,” he possessively reminded him. “And it’s never to be touched without the permission of its owner.”

Louis gasped as desire shot through him, knotting in his belly. He continued to rub his fingers all over his drenched hole, throbbing with blood, aching for release.

He heard Harry’s personal assistant come in and momentarily toyed with the idea of stopping.

But he knew that his husband would never go for that. He continued masturbating, by now beyond the point of caring who saw. In fact, knowing that another pair of male eyes were on him when his eyes were closed and he didn’t have to witness his watching him, made him impossibly wetter. He fingered himself harder, a soft moan escaping from between his lips.

“Beautiful,” Harry murmured, his voice aroused. “Exquisite.”

He came on a loud groan, blood rushing up to heat his face. His nipples shot out, distended and swollen. His breath came out in pants.

“That will be all for now,” he heard Harry mutter to his assistant Tom, a beta. He opened his eyes, watching as his husband was handed a refill of brandy. “Don’t come in here again before the plane lands.”

“Of course, Mr. Styles.”

Tom walked away, his face stoic but the bulge in his pants telling another story. Harry narrowed his eyes at him, telling him without words that it wasn’t acceptable for him to look at his assistant’s groin.

So why had he allowed his assistant to watch him masturbate in the first place? he hesitantly wondered. But he supposed that he already knew the answer. Harry had probably wanted to show off his possession to a lesser male—another display of dominance over him. He didn’t know whether to be insulted, or flattered by the fact that he found him worthy of being showcased.

“Never look at another man’s penis,” him husband said disapprovingly. “I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

His eyes widened, surprised by the fact that he’d confessed as much. He cleared him throat and glanced away. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “May I close my legs now?”

“No.” He settled into his seat and brought the brandy up to his lips. “I’m enjoying the view,” he said boldly.

Louis blushed. “Why did you let Tom come in here and watch if I wasn’t supposed to notice his reaction?” Him gaze found his. “What exactly did you expect me to notice?”

He smiled slightly. “truthfully?” He nodded slowly.

“Truthfully, I didn’t realize he was in here until it was too late. When he became aroused…” His voice trailed off and his jaw steeled. “I didn’t like it. And when you noticed his erection,” he murmured, “I became jealous. Don’t make me jealous again, please.”

Louis’s heart felt as though it might beat out of his chest. Why was he being so honest with him? And why, he wondered, was he jealous in the first place? He would have thought, given the circumstances, that Harry would have enjoyed embarrassing him in front of someone else. The man was an enigma he wasn’t likely to figure out any time soon.

Louis blew out a breath. He was also surprised that Harry Edward Styles had admitted to a weakness twice in five minutes. He hadn’t expected him to reveal any vulnerabilities to him this soon, if ever. “Thank you for answering the question,” he whispered, looking away, confused.

“You’re welcome.”

Louis sat there for another fifteen minutes, his naked cunt, as Harry likes to call his hole, on display for his husband, his high heel clad feet dangling from the arms of the chair. His intense green gaze never seemed to stray from his flesh. He simply sat there and sipped from his brandy, his eyes memorizing every nuance of him pussy.

Occasionally his blue gaze would stray toward his swollen penis, which only further agitated his own desire. He rightly assumed that he was enjoying his arousal, not at all in a hurry to orgasm. But eventually his need took over.

“Suck on me,” he said thickly. “Kneel before me and suck on my cock.”

His eyes rounded as he bit on his lip. He faltered for a moment, but in the end, and true to their legal contract, he complied unquestioningly.

Louis closed his legs and stood up, then came down on his knees before him and he took him into him mouth without ceremony. The sound of his breath catching in the back of his throat caused knots of desire to form in his belly.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Harry said hoarsely, his fingers possessively twining through his hair. 

“Spend some time getting to know it. Suck on it like a lollipop.”

And so he did. Louis had given head before, but it had always been with the intent of arousing the alpha for intercourse, which sadly hasn’t happened yet as he is a virgin. This was the first time he had ever taken his time, licking up and down the length of his shaft, familiarizing himself with everything from the puffy vein to the tiny hole at the tip of the head.

Harry cradled his face between his palms the entire time, simply watching him become familiar with his cock. He didn’t try to coerce him into going faster, which allowed him to explore him at his leisure.

Louis took his shaft all the way in to the back of his throat, his nipples hardening at the sound of his hiss. Him fingers came up to massage his balls, inducing his fingers to tighten their hold on his ringlets.

“I’m going to fuck your face now,” he ground out. “I can’t take any more toying, sweetheart.”

Harry rose from his seat, careful not to unlatch his lips from his cock in the process. He grabbed him by the back of the head and shoved his cock into his mouth as deeply as it could go, groaning when he felt his lips against his balls.

“That’s it,” he said hoarsely, his muscles tense as he began to sink his stiff penis in and out of him mouth. “Take all of me.”

Louis moaned from around his cock, which he could tell only further inflamed him. He began to ride him mouth faster and faster, his buttocks clenching and contracting as he fucked him face.

“Take all of my cock,” he hissed. He pumped in and out of him faster and harder, the sound of saliva and lips meeting steel-hard flesh permeating the cabin. “Show me how much it pleases you to have your mouth stuffed full of my cock.”

Louis groaned from around his manhood then took over the lead. He sucked on his cock faster and faster, deeper and harder, his head bobbing back and forth as he wantonly sucked him off.

His muscles tensed and his breathing grew labored. “I’m going to give you my cum, sweetheart,” he gritted out. His hips pistoned back and forth, meeting him every head bob. “Drink it all up,” he said hoarsely.

He took him in all the way, gluttonously pushing the head of his cock to the back of him throat in deep, expert movements. He moaned from around his swollen penis, enjoying the power he felt when his fingers further tightened in his hair and he began to moan uncontrollably.

“Drink it,” he groaned, his entire body shuddering. “Drink me all up.”

HARRY came on a loud bellow, the masculine growl reverberating throughout the airplane’s cabin. Him head kept up its steady bobbing motion, him lips extracting every drop of cum he had to offer him. He was relentless with him sucking, keeping up the feverish pace until he was completely drained, his body spent and satiated.

He collapsed into his seat when he could no longer stand, his breathing ragged. “Suck on my balls,” he said hoarsely once his knot has gone down, cradling him face once again, pushing it into his lap. “It relaxes me.”

Louis did, though it didn’t have the effect he had been going for. Within minutes, his cock was stiff and swollen, ready again to be suckled. He gave him what he wanted, sucking him off once more before he collapsed altogether and fell asleep.

He stayed kneeled at his feet as he slept, waiting for his knot to go down and once that happened sucking gently on his depleted balls. He sensed that this is what Harry would want. He sensed too that, for whatever reason, he needed this intimacy with him whether he realized it or not.

Throughout the rest of the plane ride to the private island, Harry slept rather peacefully. Occasionally he would wake up as if afraid he had left him, but would contentedly grab him by the back of the head and fall back to sleep when he felt his lips still latched around his balls, coddling him.

Louis idly wondered why it was he continued to kneel before him, his balls in his mouth. He consoled himself with the knowledge that he didn’t have a choice in the matter, not wanting to deal with the reality that he wanted Harry Styles as badly as, for whatever reason, he wanted him.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry’s private oasis was even more beautiful than Louis had imagined it would be. Lush palm trees were everywhere, the sound of exotic birds and beasts permeating the air as servants scurried around to see to the upkeep of the grounds and tenants.

The Styles estate was even grander than Chez Ma Coeur, the large private oasis in the Virgin Islands that had been in the Tomlinson dynasty for almost a century. Harry’s island home was palatial in size, the pink marble architecture a perfect example of Spanish influence.

Louis supposed he should have been more embarrassed by his nudity in front of so many than what he was, but oddly, he was accepting it rather well. He was still, however, angry. Harry hadn’t permitted him to put his clothes back on when the plane had landed, so he had been naked during the entire limo ride from the airstrip to the estate.

Him teeth gritted at the perceived insult. When he had signed on the dotted line, he’d had no idea that his revenge would extend to humiliation.

Luckily the couple of servants he’d come into contact with paid Louis’s nudity no attention. They had been well trained in that respect. And now, five hours later, he had grown somewhat accustomed to his lack of attire. And to his blushes. But bathing him? Him nostrils flared. He was beginning to feel like a slave.

“Soap up my balls,” Harry arrogantly ordered him. His gaze settled on his nipples. He grazed one with the pad of his thumb, then flicked it about with his forefinger. “You’ll be sucking on them quite often so use something you don’t mind the taste of.”

Louis’s face went scorching red. “Yes, sir,” he gritted out as he quickly saturated his scrotum with coconut oil and just as quickly rubbed it in.

Either he hadn’t noticed his irritation or he was purposely ignoring it, he thought glumly. Damn it! Didn’t anything get to the man?

Harry closed his eyes as he reclined back in the large, ornate tub that resembled a small wading pool. He rested his head on a bathing pillow, his arms leisurely slung over his head.

Knee-deep in water, Louis washed him from head to toe, scrubbing his skin as best as he could with his hands. He hadn’t permitted him to use a washcloth on him, so he was forced to clean him like this, his hands that were filled up with lathered soap running up and down his muscular chest, torso, and legs. He carefully avoided his swollen penis, thinking some things were better off left undisturbed.

Louis bit his lip as he studied his body. If anything, he had only gotten better with age. The body that had once been long and athletically lean was now heavy with muscle. The face that had once been boyishly handsome was now defined, sleek, and matured. He glanced away, distressed by the direction his thoughts had been going in. _He_ _hates you, idiot. Do try to remember that…_

“Touch him,” Harry’s hoarse voice commanded in low tones.

Louis glanced up. He nibbled on him lower lip, realizing at once what “him” he was talking about. Him blue gaze trailed down the length of his body, zeroing in on the large erection jutting out of the water.

“Touch him,” he murmured, his intense blue eyes slowly opening to regard him.

His eyelids were heavy, the timbre to his voice indicating arousal. His nipples, once flat, had knotted into tiny, tight beads.

Louis blew out a breath. His arousal was inducing his own. Regardless to the circumstances of their marriage and mating, it was hard not to react to the fact that he, ordinary old Louis Tomlinson, had made the beautiful, powerful Harry Styles as hard as a rock.

His hand came out slowly, inching its way down his long body. He felt his stomach muscles clench as his fingers brushed through his dark pubic hair, then down lower to cup his balls.

“The shaft,” he said thickly. “Touch the shaft.”

He squeezed his balls and released them, making him hiss. Encouraged, he wrapped him hand around his thick penis, and slowly began to masturbate him. He could hear his breathing grow more and more labored as him hand glided up and down the length of him.

“Harder,” he gritted out. “Faster.”

He pumped his cock fast, squeezing it hard as he did so. He would have thought such a squeeze would put a man in agony, but conversely, it had just the opposite effect. He was moaning within seconds, his head falling back down to rest against the pillow, his chest heaving in euphoria.

“Do you like that?” he murmured, feeling unexpectedly bold. He pumped him harder, faster. His free hand ran over his chest, soothing it.

“I love it,” he said hoarsely. He half-heartedly batted at him hand. “Stop, sweetheart. Stop before I knot your hand.”

But for some perverse reason he was enjoying this power over him. He didn’t obey, deciding to pump his cock harder and faster.

“Oh Louis,” he groaned, his jaw clenching. His toes curled as he kept up the relentless pumping.

He gave up, his head falling back yet again to rest on the bathing pillow. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensual assault, moaning and groaning as he vigorously masturbated him. He kept up the pace for a solid two minutes, watching with more awe than he wanted to as he climbed closer and closer toward orgasm.

His muscles tensed, telling him the moment was almost at hand. His teeth gritted, underlining that fact. But just as he knew he was about to come, his hand grabbed his firmly, stopping him.

“I will not,” he panted out, “waste my cum. I want every drop in your body.”

Par for the course, his words further aroused him. Louis blew out a breath. He stood up, suddenly feeling awkward. “I—I better get you a towel,” he hedged, glancing away from him, uncertain how he should feel about the undeniable attraction he felt towards him husband. “I’ll, uh, be right back.”

He quickly scurried from the large pool-like tub, him naked buttocks visible to him as he made him way towards the towel rack. He stood before the rack as if in a daze, him thoughts and emotions at war.

He wanted him. He didn’t want him. He loved him. He hated him.

No, he thought, him eyes briefly closing. That wasn’t precisely right. He didn’t hate him—he hated him.

Louis gasped when he felt his warm, wet hands cup him buttocks from behind and squeeze them. He hadn’t heard him emerge from the bathing pool.

“I’ve always loved your ass,” Harry said thickly, surprising him, as he shifted his hips so he could feel his aroused penis poking at the flesh of him behind.

Him eyes rounded as he placed the tip at the hole of his anus. “I—I didn’t know you’d ever noticed it before,” he breathed out.

“Oh, I’ve noticed it all right,” he murmured. He rotated his hips, his aroused penis again poking at the entrance to his hole. “You’ve got a great ass…”

His breathing grew labored. He was torn between fear of the unknown and arousal that had been induced from the knowledge that he liked this part of him body. Conflicted, he offered him no resistance when he nudged his body down so that he was bent over the towel rack.

“…so round and so sweet. And so… virgin”

He swallowed roughly. That much was true. “I—I’ve never had an alpha or beta there,” he breathed out, confirming his suspicions.

That only turned him on more. “Good,” he murmured, one of his hands snaking around his front to find his small cock. “I don’t like the idea of another man fucking you—anywhere.” He rubbed his cock in a slow motion, massaging it as he gasped in his arms. “You’re so sexy,” he purred against him ear, further pressing his erection against his anus. “The sexiest omega I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

His eyes widened at the compliment, then bulged when he felt the firm pressure produced by the tip of his cock slipping into his asshole. “Harry,” he said in a frightened voice. He moaned when his fingers rubbed him faster, his head falling down to rest on the towel rack.

“I put coconut oil on him,” he said hoarsely, his voice kept to a whisper. “Once we get the whole head in, you’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

He rubbed him harder, making his body involuntarily buck against his as he moaned. The head slipped all the way into his ass, inducing his eyes to fly open. He tensed up on him, his body rigid.

HARRY rubbed him mercilessly, to the point where Louis could do nothing but moan loudly as he brought him quickly toward an orgasm. “Harry _”,_ he groaned, his body bucking up against his again. _“Oh_ _my god.”_

Louis cried out as he burst, the orgasm powerful and violent. Harry sank his cock into him asshole at the same time he orgasmed, seating himself to the hilt.

“I’m all the way in,” he thickly announced, his hips slowly undulating back and forth. The fingers of one hand dug into him hip while the fingers of the other hand continued to massage around his drenched, shaved hole.

He sank in and out of his asshole, his moans filling the bathing chamber. “Oh Christ,” he gritted out, his voice so hoarse he sounded as though he was being tortured to death. His cock pumped in and out of his pliable flesh, able to go faster and deeper now that his body had adjusted to the size of him. “You’re so tight, sweetheart. My god, you’re so fucking tight…”

Louis threw his hips back at him, enjoying the way he was fucking him ass now that he could take it. He moaned as he met his thrusts, his little tits jiggling beneath him as his husband’s hand massaged his cock and his cock impaled his asshole. _“I’m_ _coming,”_ he wailed, his oncoming orgasm so powerful it made him feel hysterical. _“Oh_ _my god—HARRY.”_

He came loudly and violently, him entire body acutely sensitive as him orgasm ripped through him belly. He screamed at the intensity of it, hysterical sounds bubbling up from him throat as he continued to fuck him ass.

He groaned as if in agony, massaging him cock in fast, circular strokes while he fucked his ass harder. He pumped him for another solid minute, his moans filling up the bathing chamber.

“I’m coming too, I’m knotting you” HARRY panted, unable to last as long as he wanted to inside such a tight hole. His hips pistoned back and forth, his body animalistically pounded into his.

He could hear his breathing growing labored, short puffs of breath warming him ear. “Oh fuck— _Louis_.”

He bellowed out his name as he came, his entire body shuddering atop his. He moaned as he continued to throw him hips back at him, his asshole extracting every drop of cum his body had to give.

“Louis,” he groaned again, though weaker this time.

His fingers dug into the flesh of him hips as their undulations began to wane. “Louis,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

Louis closed him eyes as the undulations ceased, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to feel.

Harry Edward Styles had just fucked him up the ass, he thought, dazed. He didn’t know whether to laugh, whether to cry, or whether to thank the gods that he had finally felt the object of him longtime desire sinks his cock inside of his body.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered, for some reason wanting the intimacy between them to last. It was a moment of truce, he realized.

While they were joined like this, they were simply an alpha and an omega, two lovers basking in the aftermath of sex. Instead of two enemies, each of them plotting to conquer the other.

Harry kept uncharacteristically quiet, as if he too recognized the poignancy of the moment. Wordlessly, and tenderly, he pulled out of him body and carried him back to the bath.

Louis bit his lip, not meeting his gaze as he bathed him. Why was he being so gentle with him? he wondered as his hands cleaned his breasts. He decided not to question his motivations and to simply enjoy the moment.

Still, he wished it could always be like this, he conceded. He wished he could erase the past and make it go away for good. Would Mark’s faithlessness haunt their lives forever?

He sighed as he forlornly accepted the fact that it just might.


	4. Chapter 4

“I can’t believe you still won’t let me put on my clothes,” Louis hissed under his breath to his husband. He smiled weakly at a servant as he set his dinner plate down before him, then turned back to HARRY when the servant disappeared as quietly as he’d entered. The dining parlor they were seated in was huge and airy, the architecture Spanish in origin.

Louis’s thoughts returned to his nudity. This was the third day they’d been on the island and he still hadn’t seen a stitch of clothing. The good humor he’d been entertaining toward his husband on their wedding night had dissolved, replaced with irritation. “If I had known that I was going to be treated in this fashion…”

“What would you have done?” Harry murmured, his penetrating gaze meeting his.

His nostrils flared. He still would have married him and they both knew it. It was either this or watch in helplessness as his unskilled mother and sisters were tossed out into the streets. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself—”

“Immensely.”

“—Because it won’t last forever.”

His eyebrow rose. “You don’t intend on keeping your part of the bargain?” He raised a glass of Pinot Grigio to his lips. “How unsporting of you, sweetheart.”

“I’m going to find a way to get Tomlinson Chemicals back,” he gritted out. “Just you watch me.” Silence. Louis idly wondered why he’d been at his throat all day long. His nudity hadn’t bothered him on the first or second day of their honeymoon, so why now?

He frowned, refusing to accept the possibility that he was feeling rejected by the fact that he hadn’t touched him since the night he took his virginity—and now he felt foolish for having entertained such romantic notions of him after the deed had been done. His pride, he conceded, was smarting at the perceived rejection.

Harry set down the glass of white wine and steepled his fingertips. “You have no way of getting the company back and we both know it. Now stop being petulant and eat your fish.”

He snorted, rolling him eyes. “Where there’s a will there’s a way. And I’m allergic to fish.”

He hadn’t seemed worried in the least about his threats, yet oddly enough, the fish comment got to him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t know that. I’ll order you something else.”

His hand whipped out and came to rest on his. “Please don’t ring the bell,” he said quietly. “I’d rather eat the fish than have another person see me naked.”

He thought he saw something gentle in his eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. “Did you have something to do with it?” he asked softly, throwing him off guard.

Louis blinked. Him brow wrinkled. “Something to do with what?”

“With getting me fired all those years ago.” His jaw tightened. “With stealing my ideas and passing them off to the board as Mark’s.”

He sighed. “Harry…I feel awful about what my father did, but—”

“Just answer the question,” he murmured. “A simple yes or no will suffice.”

He looked him dead in the eye. “No,” he said firmly. “I didn’t know you were fired until a week after it happened. It was another two months before I found out what he’d done to you.” His back straightened. “You may not believe me, because I am in fact a Tomlinson, but it’s the truth.”

Silence.

Harry picked up his wineglass and sipped from it. “If you felt so badly,” he asked, his voice deceptively unemotional, “then why didn’t you help me?” He waved a hand. “Mark would have done anything you asked and everyone knew it.”

“That’s not true,” he whispered. He cleared his throat and glanced away. He had pleaded with his father to hire Harry back until his voice was raw…all to no avail. “I don’t know where you got your misinformation, but Mark only doted on the people he could control. I wasn’t one of them. Neither were you.”

“Touché.”

“He left me everything in his will, that’s true, but it wasn’t out of love I can assure you.” “The lesser of three evils? In his eyes, I mean?”

He shrugged, though the gesture was far from nonchalant. He had wanted Mark to love him. It still pained him that he never had. He might have been corrupted, but he was still him father. “Something like that,” he whispered.

More silence.

“You may wear clothing when the servants are around, but I want you naked at all times when it’s just us.”

He glanced up, his eyes round. He hadn’t been expecting that concession. “You believe me then?” he asked quietly.

He sighed. “I might be a goddamn fool, but yes, I believe you.” “So, you’re not going to punish me any longer?”

His brow furrowed. “Punish you?”

He waved a hand. “By forcing me to be nude in front of the entire world.” He looked at him quizzically. “That was never a punishment.”

He snorted at that. “Then why did you do it? To make me a better person?” he asked sarcastically.

He shrugged. “I prefer you naked.” His eyes hardened. “And it wasn’t the entire world. It was three people. Three people I trust implicitly. There’s a difference.” Two of whom were omegas, he mentally added. He had thought Tom was an omega too…until the bastard had become erect watching Louis masturbate. So much for his theory. And so much for Tom ever being within a foot of him again.

Louis shook his head and sighed, deciding that he wasn’t likely to solve the riddle of Harry Edward Styles tonight. And, quite frankly, he was too exhausted to try.

He waved his explanation away, then rubbed him temples. “Fine. May I have my clothes now?”

“No.”

He threw him an exasperated look. “But you just said—”

“I said that when we are alone you will always be naked.” He looked around the dining parlor for effect. “We are, in fact, alone.” His teeth gritted. “A technicality. A servant could walk in at any time.” “Not without my permission. They know better.”

“What if there was a kitchen fire and they all came running in here?” He rolled his eyes. “Or what if, I don’t know, a hurricane was on its way to the island and they ran in here to warn you? Or what if—”

“I think you’re forgetting about Clauses 52 and 53 of our prenuptial agreement,” he interrupted.

His eyes narrowed. “What were Clauses 52 and 53? There were so many damn clauses it’s hard to keep them all straight!”

“I can provide you with a copy if you’d like.” “…Arrg!”

“Clause 52,” he continued on undaunted, “states that my mate shall do what I tell him _without question_ at all times. Clause 53 states that my mate shall remain sweet-tempered, agreeable, and biddable to me at all times.” His eyebrows rose. “You’ve broken 2 Clauses in two minutes time. Not a good start, darling. And on our honeymoon no less. Tsk. Tsk.”

His nostrils flared. “That prenuptial agreement is ridiculous and we both know it!”

He rose from his chair and threw the napkin in his hand onto the table. “To you, perhaps, but not to me.”

Louis rubbed him temples, the fight going out of him. “Where are you going?” he asked weakly. His lips pinched together. “And if putting a question to you breaks one of your dumb Clauses, I don’t want to hear about it!”

“To get you something to eat,” he said with exaggerated patience. “You can’t eat fish, you don’t want Marcel in here, so I’m going to fetch you some dinner myself.”

“Oh.” There wasn’t much in the way of bitchy he could say to that.

True to his word, he fetched him a plate filled with fruits, vegetables, cheeses, breads, and a hunk of chocolate cake. There was no way he would ever be able to eat all of this food by himself.

They spent the remainder of the meal in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts. When it was over, Harry escorted him to their third-floor bedroom using a back entrance so nobody would see his nude body. He drew him into his arms after closing the door behind them and kissed him passionately. His hands caressed his breasts, ass, his everything, as his lips devoured his mouth. By the time he raised his head and drew away from him, he was breathless and panting.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured, his hand settling possessively at his breast. He rubbed one of him nipples with the pad of his thumb. “I’m giving you a little more time to get used to the idea of being owned by me, so I suggest you use it wisely.” His eyes roamed from him face down to him shaved cunt and back again. “I’m not an overly patient man.”

Louis nodded, wide-eyed, a depraved sense of disappointment settling in. He watched Harry leave through the bedroom’s double doors, half of him glad to see him go, the other half wanting him to come back.

He sank down into the lush pillowing of the bed, a sigh escaping from his lips. Climbing between the sheets, he reached over and turned off the bedside lamp, then curled up alone in the big bed.

Why had Harry married him? he asked himself for what felt to be the millionth time. What was it that he wanted from him? He kept talking about rigid ownership and equally rigid marriage clauses, yet his actions toward him thus far had been gentle, even understanding. It was as if he actually wanted him to want him back.

Louis rolled over onto his side, telling himself it was best if he got some sleep and tried to forget about his enigmatic mate. Tomorrow would come soon enough. And with it hopefully some answers.

* * * * *

HARRY had known that Louis would see things his way given time. He had been right. Mark Tomlinson’s son was everything the old bastard had touted him to be and then some. He was the rock that had kept the corrupt patriarch’s family together all of these years. He was the brains of the company and had managed to divert three of HARRY’s previous attempts to take over Tomlinson Chemicals.

The takeover had, in the end, been inevitable. HARRY had been patient on each of the previous occasions that Louis had managed to thwart him. He’d known that Mark had all but squandered the company’s assets before his death, which meant that there was only so much salvaging little Louis could do.

Again, he had been right. Finally— _finally_ —the sins of Mark Tomlinson had come full circle. And Harry Edward Styles would get the inheritance he had been promised long ago by Mark’s lying lips.

He would get the beautiful, practical, Louis William Tomlinson. He would get the omega he’d been taunted and teased with all of the years he’d worked for Mark. He would get the same up-on-a-pedestal omega who had seemed so out of reach and unattainable to an alpha who had heralded from a working-class background of meager means.

_“He sure is a treasure,” Mark gloated as the two men watched Louis work at him desk. He didn’t know that he was being watched. “Oh sure, he’s not much to look at, but he’s smart as a whip and loyal to the bone.”_

Harry’s brow furrowed. How could he think he wasn’t much to look at? He didn’t resemble the anorexic mistresses Mark always had hanging around the office clamoring for his attention (and wallet), but he’d never seen a more exotic, lush beauty. Personally, HARRY preferred his voluptuous curves to the skinny women Mark cheated on his wife with. “I agree,” HARRY murmured, “that he is a treasure.”

Mark smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way. Because I mean to give him to you, son.” His eyebrows rose. “Give him to me?”

Mark snorted at his confusion. “I know it’s not politically correct to talk about an omega in such a way, but believe me, son, marriages of the wealthy and powerful are always arranged. A man of my station can’t afford for his heiress to go to just anyone.”

“Heiress? Won’t your daughters be inheriting?” ” Not a dime.”

Looking back, HARRY should have seen that as his first sign of what Mark was truly like. How any man could cut off his own daughters without a qualm was beyond his fathoming capabilities. But he had looked up to the older man, had even managed to overlook his infidelities as a sign of weakness, because Mark Tomlinson had gone out of his way to make Harry believe that he was destined to be someone. It didn’t matter that his beginnings were humble, Mark had convinced him. Might made right. And Harry Edward Styles had all of the fortitude and drive to reach greatness.

_His penis stiffened as he watched Louis work. The unattainable omega son of Mark Tomlinson had all but been offered to him on a silver platter. To a man who had been born the son of a housewife and a low earning janitor, it seemed too good to be true._

He looked so sweet and innocent sitting there. He resembled a lamb that had no knowledge it was about to be consumed by a lion. But right now, he was only twenty-three, he reminded himself, and working at Tomlinson Chemicals part time while he earned him university degree. Mark would give him a few more years to mature and then he would ask HARRY to take him hand in marriage.

“I’d be honored to take him off your hands,” HARRY said in low tones, his gaze mesmerized by the sight of him. “Very honored…”

HARRY had idealized Louis all of these years. He’d placed him on a pedestal that no other omega had ever been able to reach and because of it his relationships invariably ended when the omega in his life fell short by comparison.

Two years later when Mark had given Harry the boot, it hadn’t been his lost job that he’d mourned. It hadn’t even been the stolen project that he hadn’t been credited for, a project that had raked in millions for Tomlinson Chemicals. It had been the loss of Louis that had made him vicious and more dangerous than he’d ever been. He had been dangled before him like a mirage in the desert, then snatched away without remorse.

_The sins of Mark Tomlinson have come full circle…_

HARRY threw down his tie on the nightstand, preparing to go to bed—tonight and only tonight without his mirage in the desert. He knew his mate thought he was beneath him. Knew too that he didn’t care. His cock stiffened as the reality of the situation at last settled in: He had won.

He had taken over Tomlinson Chemicals and Louis had been given no choice but to accept him as him husband. It was either that or his family would lose everything. In truth, he had no intention of taking anything away from his family, but a sharp businessman knew when to use the right card. Harry was the sharpest.

And so now Louis William Tomlinson was his. His to fuck, his to breed, his to…own.

HARRY had no intention of settling for a polite, unfamiliar relationship with his wife as so many of the socially elite did. When he had told him that he would own him, he had meant it.

Every last word of it.


	5. Chapter 5

“Show me your cunt.” His jaw tightened. “Whenever we are alone and sitting down together, I want your legs spread wide apart at all times. I shouldn’t have to ask to see something that belongs solely to me.”

The air chilled as evening settled in, inducing his skin to goose pimple. His nipples hardened as a cool breeze hit them, stiffening them into tight, sensitive peaks. “May I please put my clothes back on?” Louis asked. Reclining on a cabana lounger, he absently glanced down at the untouched margarita sitting before him, then toward the pool that had been built to look like an island lagoon. Surrounding the pool was a faux jungle, thickly laced with palm trees and exotic ferns. “It’s getting a bit chilly.”

“No,” he said simply, glancing up from the computer spreadsheet he had been reading from. His eyes narrowed. “I thought I told you to spread your legs. When I look up from my work, I want to see your gorgeous cunt exposed to me.” He glanced back down, perusing the paperwork before him.

His nostrils flared but he spread him legs. “Is this better?” he asked icily. Harry glanced up again. He ignored the perturbed look he was giving him. “Infinitely,” he murmured.

Louis sighed, giving up. He had no idea how long he planned to keep him naked and spread eagle, but he hoped the novelty would soon wear off. Besides, he needed time away from him. How else could he plot behind his back to regain him family’s empire? But then again, he thought forlornly, he was probably well aware of that fact.

_Bastard._

Louis seethed for another ten minutes before he slowly began to drift off to sleep. His mind was filled with a thousand questions and concerns even as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, eventually closing altogether.

What did HARRY want from him? Why did he insist upon keeping him naked and splayed out like this? Was it all about revenge, or was it possible that deep down inside he actually wanted him but refused to admit it?

He fell asleep in the lounger, a cool tropical breeze hitting his exposed hole, stiffening his nipples. His last coherent thought was that it really didn’t matter what Harry’s motivations were. The undeniable fact was that he had done exactly what he’d said he was going to do and now he owned him.

* * * * *

_“He’s so handsome,” Louis breathed out, a paper plate filled with a huge piece of chocolate cake covered in thick icing clutched to him chest. He bit him lip as he watched HARRY Styles spike the volleyball a final time, thereby winning the game for his team at the Tomlinson Chemical company picnic. “So handsome,” he whispered._

_Cheers rang up from the crowd as Louis dreamily studied HARRY’s features. His muscular, athletic body. His chiseled face and gorgeous dark hair. His…_

_He blushed. He was only fourteen, so he probably shouldn’t be looking at him down there._

_“You did it!” a feminine voice chirped as a gorgeous, thin redhead threw himself into Harry’s arms. “You’re my hero,” he said throatily, his body rubbing up against his aroused one as he kissed him._

_Louis closed his eyes, his heart breaking. He didn’t want to see HARRY kiss someone else. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that he didn’t do those things and then some with the beautiful redhead in private, but at least if he didn’t have to see it then he could still pretend…_

Louis’s brow furrowed in his sleep. _I_ _can pretend he’s mine…all mine_. His eyes closed tightly, the remembered pain all too real even in slumber.

_“Let’s get out of here,” HARRY murmured to his female companion. He didn’t know that Louis was hiding in the shadows, eavesdropping. “I feel like fucking you.”_

_Louis’s eyes opened. Him heart began beating furiously. Please don’t take him home, he thought. Please Harry-_

_“I thought you’d never ask,” the redhead purred. “I’ve been horny for you all afternoon.”_

_He smiled. “Then let’s go.”_

_Louis listened as they walked away, emerging from the shadows only when he was certain that the coast was clear. His head bowed as pain lanced through him, jabbing him in the stomach._

_He took a deep breath as he studied the paper plate in him hand. Chocolate cake was his favorite._

_Sighing, Louis pitched the plate into a nearby garbage can and headed toward the gates. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t feel like eating or playing games or listening to a bunch of boring people make allegedly witty conversation. He just wanted to go home._

_He held his head high as he walked through the gates and towards the awaiting limo. He passed by Harry and his companion, who were waiting on his car to be brought around, but paid them no attention. He could feel his eyes on him as he hurried past, but pretended obliviousness to his presence as his father’s chauffeur opened the limo door for him and he crawled inside._

_Only when he was safely at home, after he had locked himself away from the world and prying eyes in the secrecy of his bedroom, did he allow himself to feel emotions again. He crawled between the satin sheets of his plush Cinderella canopy bed and closed his eyes, crying softly as he drifted off to sleep..._

Louis awoke abruptly, sadness mingled with an urgent sensation of arousal overpowering him. Still within the clutches of sleep, his mind not fully cognizant of the fact that he had been dreaming, he gasped like a shocked sixteen-year-old when he opened his eyes and saw Harry’s head buried between his legs.

“HARRY,” he panted, his back arching on the lounger. “What are you— _oh god_.”

He gasped again, his mind now alert to the fact of where he was and what was happening to him. Splayed out naked on the cabana lounger, his nipples stiff and his hole exposed, his husband was lapping at his ass, licking it feverishly and nuzzling him like a dog that had found a buried bone.

“Harry,” he breathed out. He threaded his fingers through his hair, pressing his face in closer to his aroused flesh. _“Yes,”_ he hissed. He became lost in sensation, lost in emotion, as the fourteen-year-old naïve omega boy mentally warred with the twenty-five-year-old mature male omega.

HARRY’s mouth latched onto his hole as he began to mercilessly suck on it. The sound of him slurping his flesh into his mouth punctured the night. He moaned as his head fell back, his nipples pointing straight up into the crisp evening air. There was no more battle to be fought.

_“Harder,”_ he begged. _“Suck on it harder.”_

He readily complied, a barely detectable growl eliciting from the back of his throat as he buried his face between his legs as far as it could humanly go. He sucked harder, his fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs, holding his body steady as it began to convulse.

Louis came on a loud groan, his entire body shaking as an orgasm ripped through him. Blood rushed up to his face, heating it, and then to his nipples, elongating them. _“Oh_ _yes,”_ he moaned, him head thrashing back and forth. _“Oh_ _god.”_

His hole became extraordinarily sensitive, causing him to cry out when he continued to suck on it. “No—HARRY—please…!”

He ignored his verbal plea and sucked even harder, making him scream from a combination of pleasure and pain. His hips bucked up from beneath him, threatening to force him to release him. His fingers dug firmly into his thighs instead, refusing to give his cunt up.

A dog with a bone, his hysterical mind kept thinking as his head continued to thrash back and forth. He looked exactly like a dog with a bone…

_“Oh. My. God.”_

Louis screamed, his back arching and his legs instinctively wrapping around HARRY’s neck, as another, stronger orgasm tore through him. He moaned as the climax pounded throughout his body, his legs trembling like leaves in a storm. _“Yes,”_ he moaned; his nipples so hard they ached. _“Yes.”_

HARRY gently unwrapped his legs from around his neck and repositioned them so that they were splayed out on the cushioned arms of the expensive cabana lounger. His face emerged from between his thighs, his eyes intense, as he watched Louis’s panting body come down from its high.

When it was over, when he felt calmed and drugged by climax, he looked up, his eyes searching for his. Louis took a deep breath, watching as his gaze flicked up from his exposed, shaved cunt to his face. Wordlessly, he stood up a moment later and began to shed his suit.

“Your cunt is delicious,” he murmured. “As tasty as I always thought it would be.” His eyes widened. As tasty as he’d always thought it would be? That almost sounded like—had he fantasized about him before?

“But now it’s time to move onto the next phase,” he growled as he unzipped his trousers. “The phase where I fuck you day and night, filling up your cunt with my sperm.” One eyebrow rose arrogantly as he stepped out of his boxer shorts. “The phase where I get my omega pregnant with my first heir.”

His first heir. Louis wet his lips. Would there be more babies then? Wouldn’t he stop at one if his only intention was revenge? As far as that went, would he get him pregnant at all if his sole motivation was to get back at his father? Somehow, he couldn’t see Harry Styles doing that to a child, but he had to concede that he didn’t yet understand him well enough to judge.

“Keep your legs spread wide,” HARRY ordered as he came down on his knees to settle himself between them. “If it were possible, I’d want them that way day and night, your cunt always visible and ready to be fucked by me.”

Louis blew out a breath, his arousal growing in leaps and bounds. Some women would find such guttural words a turn-off, but he wasn’t one of them. HARRY personified masculinity with his brash, unschooled ways. He was earthy and rugged—the very things that had first attracted him to him all those years back. It was getting more and more difficult to separate then from now, the fourteen-year-old from the twenty-five-year-old.

HARRY ran a possessive hand over his shaved hole. “I’ve never seen a more perfect cunt,” he announced in an almost absent fashion. Almost because there was nothing absent about Harry Edward Styles. “It belongs in a magazine.” That eyebrow of his rose again. “Except I don’t share.”

Louis’s breathing momentarily stilled. Why was he talking to him this way? Why was he praising his body? And why did he persist in revealing his own vulnerabilities?

Harry palmed his erection, then guided it toward Louis’s opening. “I’ve waited a long, long time to fuck you like this Louis William,” he murmured as he covered his body with his. His blue eyes widened a bit at the revelation. “Too damn long.”

His jaw was tense, his teeth gritted. He sank into his cunt on a groan, seating his cock to the hilt. He gasped upon entry, able to feel his organ pulsing inside of him. He slowly began to rock in and out of him, the sound of his hole enveloping his cock serving as an aphrodisiac.

“Your cunt feels so good,” he said hoarsely, his eyelids heavy as he slowly thrust in and out of him. “I wanted to wait to fuck you until we got to our bedroom, but I couldn’t wait.”

Louis wet his lips, the confession giving him more courage than he wanted it to. “Then fuck me,” he whispered, feeling emboldened. “I’ve fantasized about you since I was a little boy. Make it real.”

His eyes widened. His body stilled, the muscles tense. “Louis…”

“It’s true,” he said, blushing. He glanced away. “Please don’t make me regret that I confessed it,” he whispered.

He was still for a moment, as if working things out in his mind. He wanted to look at him to see his reaction, but was too embarrassed to. A moment later he was gasping as he ripped into him, then moaning as he covered his body and pumped in and out of him wet hole in fast, violent strokes.

“Is this real enough for you, Louis William,” he ground out, his jaw clenched. He rotated his hips and pounded into him harder—faster.

“Yes,” he moaned, his neck baring to him as he arched his back. _“Yes.”_

He palmed him breasts and buried his face between them, feverishly sucking on each nipple as he slammed into his cunt again and again. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh competed with the sound of his nipples popping out of his mouth as he repeatedly took turns sucking on them.

Louis gasped, a groan escaping from between his lips. He reached down and palmed his buttocks, his fingers digging into the steely mounds. “So good,” he murmured, his eyes closed as a tropical breeze washed over their heated bodies. “So good.”

“And so, mine,” HARRY said possessively as his face rose from him nipples. He released his breasts and twined a long, thick lock of his hair around his hand. His teeth gritted, he rotated his hips again then slammed his cock into him, his hips pistoning back and forth as he pounded in and out of his ass.

_“Oh god,”_ Louis groaned. His head began to undulate back and forth as the sound of his hole enveloping his cock reached his ears. _“Harder,”_ he begged. _“Fuck_ _me harder.”_

Releasing his hold on his hair, he didn’t stop fucking him as he quickly came up to his knees and threw his legs over his shoulders, impaling him again without missing a beat. Harry took him impossibly harder, his well-honed body able to withstand the violent pace.

Louis gasped, now able to feel every inch of his long penis buried deep inside of him. He opened him eyes as he fucked him, watching as his thick cock disappeared into his wet hole with a suctioning sound. Over and over. Again, and again. He fucked him harder and faster and—

_“Oh my god.”_ Louis screamed out the words as his eyes closed and his head fell back against the cabana lounger. His nipples stabbed up into the air and his legs shook from atop his shoulders as his body convulsed in orgasm. _“Yes—oh_ _god HARRY.”_

Harry growled as he fucked him, the sound of his name on his lips as he came making him go wild. His fingers dug into the flesh of his thighs as he pounded mercilessly into his cunt, fucking him like a battering ram. “You’re mine,” he ground out, his muscles slick and corded as he buried himself in his ass over and over, again and again. _“Mine.”_

He came down on top of him, covering him body with his larger one as his legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. His palms cupped his breasts as he surged in and out of Louis, relentlessly fucking him with his cock as his possessive hands held firmly onto his breasts.

His face looked pained, as if he knew he was about to come and didn’t want to—as if he wanted the moment to last forever.

HARRY buried his cock in him to the hilt, fucking him with hard, deep strokes. His eyes closed, his muscles tense, he sank into his cunt once, twice, three times more. _“Louis.”_ He came on a loud groan, his jaw clenched as his cum spurted deep inside of him, his stiff body shuddering atop his.

While they’re were waiting for his knot to come down, neither of them moved a muscle nor spoke a word for a long while. They both laid there, replete and exhausted, for what felt like hours.

Louis continued to cling onto Harry’s body, his arms wrapped around his center. He was still holding onto him too, he noted, and he didn’t seem inclined to let go.

His eyes drifted upwards, his gaze absently watching the silhouette of a palm tree sway lazily in the night time breeze, the crescent-shaped moon behind it providing a mystical ambiance for what would be a turning point in both of their lives.

He closed his eyes as he held his alpha tightly, his thoughts on what would become of them after this night. Could Harry ever forget what Mark had done to him? And if he couldn’t, would he ever be able to view him as an entity separate from the man who had once destroyed him?

Louis sighed as his hands absently stroked Harry’s back. He hoped that would be the case and that his husband would see him for himself rather than as an extension of Mark. Otherwise, he thought sadly, they had no hope for happiness.

And his father’s sins would have effectively destroyed two more lives.


	6. Chapter 6

Two weeks later

Louis sank down onto his husband’s cock, impaling himself in one smooth thrust. He sighed breathily, enjoying the feeling of having his cunt stuffed full of him.

“Louis,” Harry said groggily. It was the middle of the night. And the very first time he had ever initiated sex between them. “What are you—oh sweetheart, that feels so good.”

He gently smiled as he slowly rode up and down the length of his rigid shaft. His hands came down to massage his chest, him fingers running over his nipples as he made love to him.

Harry sucked in his breath. His teeth gritted. “Oh baby—goddamn I love your cunt.” And he loved his cock—and him.

That revelation had woken him up tonight from a peaceful sleep. He loved him. He had always loved him. It didn’t matter what had happened in the past. Somehow, he would find a way to make things right.

Over the past two weeks, HARRY had come to mean more to him than he’d ever thought possible. And if he didn’t miss his guess, he was pretty certain that he too was becoming an important figure in his life.

In stark contrast to the first few days of their married life, the past two weeks had been wonderful. His mate had revealed the gentle, kind side of himself that he apparently reserved for Louis and Louis alone.

He’d paid a great deal of attention to how he interacted with others. He was autocratic, domineering, unwilling to compromise—but with him he was somehow different. During the past two weeks he couldn’t recall one personal decision he had made without consulting with him first. From what they would eat for breakfast to what stocks he thought he should invest in; he valued his opinion.

Where Harry was loud and a bit harsh with others, he was gentle and soft-spoken where he was concerned. He didn’t seem too interested in the feelings of very many people, but conversely, him feelings seemed to matter to him more than his own.

He liked that—needed it even. It made him feel special. It made him feel desirable. It made him feel loved.

“I missed you,” he whispered. He smiled down to him as he continued to slowly ride his cock. “I didn’t want to wait until morning.”

Harry’s gaze clashed with his. He didn’t smile, but he saw something gentle in his eyes. “Never apologize,” he murmured, his hands finding his hips. “I missed you too, sweetheart.”

Their gazes locked and held as they made love. He looked almost vulnerable to him, if such a thing were possible where Harry Edward Styles was concerned. Perhaps he was being overly romantic, perhaps what he saw in those murky green eyes was nothing but fatigue and arousal, but he liked to think that there was more to it than that.

“Kiss me,” he whispered. “I need to be closer to you.”

Again, that gentling in his eyes. “Come here,” he murmured, one strong hand reaching up to bend his head down to meet his. He thrust his tongue inside, meeting his. They kissed long and leisurely, the same as they made love. They took their time exploring each other’s bodies, neither of them in any rush to stop in the name of sleep.

Louis raised his head and smiled down to Harry as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. He continued to ride him slowly, his hole enveloping and re-enveloping his cock over and over, again and again.

This is how it should be, he thought. This is how he wanted it to be. He’d never felt closer to another human being in him entire life.

Louis sighed contentedly as they made love, wishing that this night never had to end.


	7. Chapter 7

One week later

Louis rustled through the paperwork on the desk in Harry’s private study, careful to keep quiet so he wouldn’t be caught. He had been asleep for over two hours, he reminded himself, and soundly at that. All would be well.

A part of him felt guilty for going behind his back and looking through his things like this, but the other part of him needed answers. He wanted to know what had become of his family since Harry hadn’t been inclined to discuss them with him. His thoughts turned to the conversation they’d had last night in their bedroom following dinner.

_“There’s plenty of time for that," he hedged. "I don’t wish to discuss the Tomlinson family tonight.”_

_“But HARRY—”_

_“Please,” he said quietly, his mesmerizing eyes snagging his. “Not tonight,” he murmured. “I’d rather concentrate on getting my heir or heiress in your belly.”_

_His nipples hardened from under his gaze. “At some point we have to talk,” he said, glancing away._

_“We talk plenty, don’t we? About lots of things.” He walked across the room and stood beside him, his hand coming up to gently knead him shoulder._

_He bit his lip. “I meant about my family.”_

_He sighed. “I know what you meant. But please, Louis, not tonight…”_

He had made love to him then, which hadn’t come as any surprise. In fact, Harry had taken him so many times over the past three weeks that he would be surprised if it turned out he wasn’t pregnant.

On the stairs, in the dining parlor, by the pool, in his office, in their bed, missionary, doggy,

omega-on-top, spooning—they’d fucked in every way imaginable and in ways he hadn’t previously thought possible.

His husband seemed almost obsessed with him, Louis thought as he rifled through his desk drawers. Like he had plotted for years to have him all to himself and was making the most of the situation now that he was ensnared.

That was probably true. But was his motivation revenge…or something more?

One part of him believed that Harry had fallen for him, but the other part kept wondering, kept feeding him doubts. Either way, he needed to know. By finding out what had become of his family, he was pretty certain he would have his answers. After all, if you love an omega and wanted to keep him happy, you could hardly throw his family out on the street.

Louis cursed under his breath when he came to a drawer that was locked. _Stay_ _focused, Louis. You need to find out what happened to your family._ He impatiently glanced around for a key, sighing when he couldn’t find one. _He’s_ _no fool,_ he thought. _All_ _of the answers have to be in this drawer. Why else would he have locked it?_

His brow furrowed as he considered the puzzle before him in a logical fashion. Harry wouldn’t leave the key in plain sight, he knew, but as busy of a man as he was, he doubted if he kept it far from the desk. He’d want it easily accessible…

He glanced around, his eyes darting back and forth. A photograph of his deceased parents on one wall, an original Picasso on another, a clay urn that looked Egyptian in origin—

Him gaze flew back to the photo of his deceased parents. He stilled, gnawing at his bottom lip. HARRY wouldn’t be that sentimental…would he?

His eyes unblinking, Louis slowly walked towards the far-left wall of the office, coming to a halt before the aged photograph. They looked happy in the scene, he thought with a nostalgic smile.

Dressed in wedding clothing, grinning at each other as if they’d never seen a happier day, the bride and groom resembled two lovesick puppies as they lifted a piece of wedding cake to the other’s mouth.

Louis blinked, remembering the key. And the fact that time was of the essence…

He shook off the reverie and slowly lifted his hands to the portrait. Twisting his robe-clad body so that he could easily glance behind it, he somehow wasn’t surprised when he found a small key taped to the back of it. _So_ _he is that sentimental…_

Quickly and carefully removing the key, he settled the portrait against the wall and scurried back over to the desk. _Come on, come on. He could wake up at any time…_

He sank the key into the socket. A perfect fit.

Breathing deeply, Louis opened the desk drawer, hoping to find some sort of paperwork that would explain what had become of his family. There were no phones on the island. Only the singular cell phone Harry carried in his pocket like an appendage.

His hand stilled as the drawer opened. His brow wrinkled. There was nothing inside of the drawer, he thought, perplexed. Nothing but a…

“Photo album?” he murmured.

Confused, and more than a little curious, Louis’s hands reached for the expensive leather album and plucked it up from its previous confinement. The leather looked worn, as if his husband had spent many hours looking through the photographs inside.

His heart wrenched as he wondered to himself just whose pictures would be inside. The redhead perhaps? Or some other beautiful, statuesque omega he’d had to give up in order to see his revenge against the Tomlinson through?

His heart beating madly, Louis laid the leather-jacketed book down on the desk and thrust it open. Feeling sick at his stomach at the thoughts of who might be inside, he told himself he didn’t care, but knew that he did. Him hand stilled as he came to the first photograph.

“It’s me,” he whispered, his blue eyes wide. He thumbed through the album, quickly scanning the contents of every page. “These pictures are all of me.”

Stunned, and more confused than ever before, Louis went back to the beginning and took his time studying the photographs. There he was at eighteen, smiling shyly up to his prom date. At nineteen when he’d been promoted to a VP’s assistant at Tomlinson Chemicals. At twenty when mother had thrown a ball in his name. At twenty-one when he’d graduated from Harvard. At twenty-two when he’d been promoted to the vice-president of marketing…

“My god,” he breathed out. “What is going on?”

“I should have hidden that better,” Harry muttered from across the room, inducing him breathing to still. He glanced up, noting that he had put on his trousers but nothing else before he’d come to find him.

“Harry,” he murmured, him eyes unblinking. “What is this?”

One eyebrow came up sardonically. “You don’t recognize yourself?” He sighed as he absently scratched his chin and looked away. “It’s you Louis,” he said softly. “All of the photos are of you.”

He could see that. But he was still too shocked to speak. No man had thought enough of him before to so much as keep his picture in his wallet, yet Harry had built a leather-encased shrine to him.

Louis simply watched him, too stunned to speak, waiting for him to reveal more. “Mark promised you to me,” he murmured, standing up straight from his previous slouch against the wall. “For years, I was told that you and I would be married one day.”

Him eyes widened.

Harry put his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “But Mark set me up and fired me for things I never did. And then you were gone.” He sighed, his intense blue gaze at last meeting his. “I spent years believing you would be mine one day, Louis William. The job, the money—none of it meant a damn thing. But I couldn’t accept losing you too. Not when I’d worked so hard all of those years to make you proud of me.”

Goosebumps went down him spine. “Proud of you?” he whispered, him heartbeat quickening. “Why on earth would you think I wouldn’t be proud of you as is?”

He shrugged, but he could tell the subject was a painful reminder of his past. “Because I was a nobody,” he murmured. “I was a nobody in love with a somebody. Aspiring to marry you was like a coal miner aspiring to marry royalty.”

He felt tears gather in the backs of him eyes. “You loved me?” he asked quietly. His intense gaze bore into his. “Always,” he whispered.

He blinked, his eyelashes batting away the tears that kept threatening to fall. He closed the album and ran a hand over the leather exterior, then carefully placed it back in the drawer. In a daze, he looked back up to his husband. “I don’t know what to say.” He took a deep breath. “It certainly puts a new perspective on things.”

Harry stared at him for what felt like forever before he spoke again. “Yes, it does.” He nibbled on his lower lip. There was something different about him now. As if he’d been hoping he’d say or do something that he hadn’t done. Like admit that he had always loved him too?

Louis wasn’t given any time to sort out him dazed emotions. The next thing he knew, Harry was walking into the office and rifling through his desk drawers. “Here,” he said, handing him a piece of paper. He glanced down, noting that it was the very paper he needed to hold on to Tomlinson Chemicals. “I now realize that you didn’t have anything to do with it,” he said softly. “I never should have tried to make you pay for your father’s sins. He took you away from me. But it’s taken me all of this time to realize that I never really had you.”

His eyes widened. In surprise, in alarm of what he feared he was about to say—he didn’t know. “Go back to England,” he murmured. “Harry —”

“Please,” he said softly, his eyes closing for a brief moment. He ran a weary hand over his stubbly jaw. “I thought I could settle for taking you by force, but I guess I’m not as ruthless as I hoped I was.”

He walked away from him then, his face carefully stoic. He stopped at the doors before walking over the threshold, long enough to look back at him with those lost, haunted eyes of his. Now he understood why they were always so intense when he was near him. He had done all of this so he could have him. It had never been about revenge. “I love you, Louis William. Now. Then. Always.”

And then he was gone.

Louis’s hand flew up to cover his mouth. Numb, he sank down into the leather chair behind the desk and stared at nothing for the better part of an hour. He felt like he was dreaming. He felt lost in the surreal haze that had engulfed him. Harry Edward Styles loved _him?_ He had always loved _him?_ Ordinary, unglamorous Louis William Tomlinson?

He swallowed against the lump in his throat. As if some invisible dam inside of him broke, he gasped and let the tears fall freely.

He had always loved him too. Now. Then. Always. Just as he’d said to him. He should have spoken up. He should have told him how he felt…

Coming out of him previous stupor, Louis bolted up from the leather chair and raced from the office. It couldn’t be too late, he told himself. It just couldn’t be.

The robe he wore dangled open as he raced to find HARRY. Heedless of him exposed body, he flew up the stairs, not stopping until he reached their bedroom. By the time he thrust open the double doors, his breathing was labored and perspiration dotted him brow.

He was gone, he thought, his heart wrenching as he looked around the room that had once been filled with his husband’s personal items. He was already gone.

“Oh no,” he whispered, sinking down onto the bed. “Oh HARRY.”


	8. Chapter 8

Three days later

Harry sighed as he glanced around the empty medieval looking estate, he’d had built over a year ago. He was the only person of money and prestige in England that didn’t own a home with either a Victorian design or one with an antebellum influence. He had gone for the Baroque look because Mark had once mentioned that it was Louis’s favorite.

He poured himself a brandy and sat down on a chair before the large, Old World style fireplace. He had been foolish to let him go, he decided. Perhaps he could have lived with taking him by force if it was the only way he could have him.

It certainly beat the hell out of being without him.

Lost in his thoughts, he glanced absently toward the oversized chair set on the far side of the library. He sipped from his brandy as he looked back to the fireplace—then did a double take.

_Louis._

He was here. Naked, sitting on the oversized chair, him legs splayed wide, dangling from either arm.

Harry quickly set his brandy down before he spilled it.

“That was pretty unsporting of you to go back on our agreement,” Louis said as his right hand lazily stroked that delicious, bald cunt of his. “Don’t one of those eight thousand Clauses of yours cover what happens to the recalcitrant alpha when he walks out on his omega?”

He sat there for a long moment, simply staring at him. “No,” he at last murmured, rising up from his chair. His penis was so swollen it ached. “They don’t.”

Louis raised one blonde eyebrow. “Then I want you to sign a new agreement tomorrow. Because if you walk out on me again—”

“I never walked out. I thought you didn’t want me.”

“Because if you walk out on me again then I reserve the right to…well, I don’t know what right I want precisely. I’ll have to figure that out.” That gorgeous eyebrow of his shot up again. “We can make that Clause eight zillion and nine.”

Harry held back a grin. “Why are you here?” he whispered.

He sighed as if he was the sole martyr for the entire omega race and he was the idiot alpha representing the opposition. Much to his surprise, he pulled a copy of their mating agreement out from behind him and held it up. “According to Clause 76, I, the undersigned, am supposed to offer my body as a sperm receptacle to my husband twice daily, every day, for as long as we both shall live.”

HARRY winced at the callous wording of the document. He glanced away, clearing his throat. “I haven’t offered myself as a sperm receptacle in three days. That means I owe you six orgasms. I’m nothing like Mark. I always keep my part of a bargain, you see.”

His intense gaze found his. “Is that what this is?” he murmured. “Keeping your end of a deal?”

His eyes gentled. “Of course not,” he whispered, his demeanor growing serious. He rose up from the oversized chair and stood before him.

“Then what is it?”

He smiled softly. “I love you, Harry,” he murmured. “I’ve loved you since I was a little boy and I’ll go on loving you for the rest of my life.”

Harry’s eyes searched Louis’s face as if looking for the truth.

“If you would have given me time to recover from the greatest shock of my life before dashing off to England like the dramatic, ill-fated hero of a gothic novel, I would have said those words three days ago.” He grinned. Their gazes clashed and locked.

“It’s been the worst three days of my life,” he admitted.

“Mine too.” He smiled. “But let’s put the past behind us. All of it,” he said meaningfully. He cocked him head. “Okay?”

For an answer, he kissed him. One minute he was on his feet and the next minute he was swept up into his arms, his tongue lashing out to touch his, as he carried him over to the rugs before the fireplace. He came down on his knees and set him before him, growling into Louis’s mouth as his hands feverishly plucked at his clothing.

“I want you so much,” he whispered as he tore his lips away from his. His voice sounded breathless; his lips looked well-kissed. “I used to lie in bed at night when I just presented as an omega and fantasize about being in your arms, in your bed.”

He both hated and loved what the confession did to his heart. Hated it because alphas weren’t supposed to be affected by words like that and yet he was. Loved it because it meant that this moment was real—and that Louis William Tomlinson was finally all his.

Without force.

Harry nudged his omega down onto the ground, thrusting him legs apart as he came down on top of him. Desperate to be inside of him, he impaled his swollen cock into him cunt, seating himself to the hilt. “You don’t want to know,” he panted, “how many of my masturbation fantasies you’ve starred in.”

Louis grinned, apparently loving that confession. He rotated his hips and slammed into him again, causing him expression to go serious as he hissed.

Louis thrust him breasts up. “I love it when you suck on my nipples while you fuck me,” he breathily admitted. “Could you do that again?”

Could he? It’s damn near all he’d thought about these past three days and nights.

Harry lowered his face down to his breasts with a growl, his tongue wrapping around one of his erect nipples. He vigorously sucked on it as he fucked him, his hips rocking back and forth as he buried his cock inside of him over and over, again and again.

Just as he’d always wanted it to be. Just as it now was.

_The sins of Mark Tomlinson have come full circle…_

As he sank his cock in and out of his omega’s delectable cunt, it occurred to Harry that he had accomplished something far more meaningful than infiltrating Mark’s precious company, something far more powerful than infiltrating the bastard’s precious bloodline:

He had managed to find happiness with his wife. He had infiltrated Louis’s heart and he his. Everything was finally as it should be.

HARRY smiled down to his omega as he made love to him, all thoughts of the past firmly relegated to the cobwebs of his memories.


	9. Epilogue

Five years later

“He’s so handsome,” Louis breathed out, a paper plate filled with a huge piece of chocolate cake covered in thick icing clutched to him chest. He bit him lip as he watched Harry Styles spike the volleyball a final time, thereby winning the game for his team at the Tomlinson-Styles Chemical company picnic. “So handsome,” he whispered.

Cheers rang up from the crowd as Louis dreamily studied Harry’s features. His muscular, athletic body. His chiseled face and gorgeous dark hair. His…

He smiled. They’d made love less than three hours ago. He shouldn’t be thinking about that already.

“You did it!” a feminine voice chirped as a gorgeous, petite brunette threw himself into HARRY’s arms. “You’re my hero,” she said excitedly, her tiny, perfect hands settling on his cheeks.

HARRY grinned. “You’re hero, huh?” He tickled him until he squealed. “Give daddy a kiss, munchkin.”

Louis closed his eyes, his heart soaring. He still couldn’t believe how happy he was. After all of these years as his mate, he still got weak-kneed at the very sight of him. Life had turned out better than he’d ever dreamed possible.

“Louis, honey,” Harry called from across the field. “Where are you?”

He opened him eyes and smiled. “Right here,” he piped up, waddling out of the shadows to meet up with him and their daughter. His pregnant stomach was so huge he felt like he was about to pop.

His intense gaze possessively flicked over his swollen belly, then up to him breasts and face. “You ready to go home, babe?”

“Definitely.”

Harry’s face scrunched up as he lassoed one muscular arm around him. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

Louis smiled up to him. He shook his head, then laid it against his shoulder as the three of them walked towards the awaiting limo. “Not at all,” he whispered. “Everything is very right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this story!
> 
> Leave a comment if you feel like it:)


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